


Paris in the Rain

by jinhyungnim



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: College, Fluff, Inspiration, M/M, Title from a song by Lauv, ryers, self discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:05:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinhyungnim/pseuds/jinhyungnim
Summary: When a complete stranger came into Will's life, he was made to realize how much he had to learn about himself.And when a complete stranger took Richie in, he was shown how much of the world he had yet to see.





	1. The Nameless Man

The first time Will saw another person occupying his favorite spot in the library, he was merely surprised and quite disappointed, and – not one to dwell on anything disappointing – decided to sit on the adjoining booth separated by a small wall from the table he favored. He liked that particular table because the air vent was directly above it, and somehow, his body _really_ seemed to crave the cold. In that secluded part of the library, he’s able to tweak the thermostat as much as he pleased. It was also very quiet and never had any visitor other than himself. It was old and dingy and had a funny smell to it. Still, it was a favorite to Will.

 

The second time he saw the same person occupying his favorite spot in the library, he was vexed, but only temporarily, and again took the adjoining booth. He could only tell that it’s the same person because the guy had on the same exact clothes he wore yesterday and was sleeping in the same manner with his head buried within his crossed arms above the table, his hooded jacket covering his entire head, preventing Will to see his face. He had an empty wrapper of pop-tarts and a can of red bull scattered on the table just like the day before.

 

But the third time Will saw the same person on the same exact spot sleeping very much on the same exact manner with the same mess on the table, he was worried. He began to think that the guy was a homeless man with nowhere else to go and nothing better to eat other than pop-tarts and a can of red bull. It may have been exam week and broke, college students like himself may afford nothing better to purchase, but some may have it worse. He wondered if this guy had been kicked out of his apartment, or worse, kicked out of school. So today, he decided to stay for as long as the man stayed, hoping to find some answers to his curiosities, but the man never got up once until it was almost time for the library to close.

 

“Excuse me,” Will said softly as he gently shook the man by the shoulder. “The library closes in fifteen minutes.”

 

The guy stirred and groaned but said nothing. Will tried again, and this time, the guy lifted his head and stared at Will with his sleepy, confused eyes.

 

“Do you… have anywhere to go…?” Will asked unsurely.

 

“Not from here,” the guy mumbled sleepily, his eyes squinting as he looked at Will. He had a funny accent, perhaps French if not Russian.

 

“ _Not from here_ … do you mean you’re not from Savannah?”

 

Will was still in his third year in high school when he was offered a full scholarship to a private arts school in Savannah, Georgia. It had caused a buzz in his small town, since nothing _that_ prestigious ever happened there. It pained him to leave his mom who he was such good friends with, but his older brother was to come back to their town after college and work there near her.

 

The nameless guy shook his head childishly with a pout. Will sighed and asked, “Do you have a place to stay?” Again, the guy shook his head _no_.

 

Will was thoughtful for a moment. He didn’t have it in him to simply turn a blind eye to this poor soul, but he also couldn’t simply allow a stranger to stay in his place. The guy was beginning to put his head back down, so Will quickly touched his shoulder again to rouse him up.

 

“Why don’t you stay in my place for the night? We’ll figure out where we can get you help tomorrow morning.” He surprised himself with this offer, but it had already slipped his mouth and he’s not about to take it back.

 

The announcement came on that the library was closing, but the guy made no move to get up. Will had to half-drag the young man and supported him up which was no easy task since the man, as he finally stood, happened to be at least five inches taller than Will. It was a struggle for them to climb up three flights of stairs from the sub-basement level to the main floor of the library and an even more struggle to climb up another three flights of stairs to his dorm room. He could’ve chosen to use the elevator, but most people did and he’d rather not have to be seen taking a drunken-looking stranger back to his room.

 

Will had been lucky to have a room for himself when his supposed roommate dropped out of school just before the semester began. It was a small room with enough space to fit two twin-sized beds and still leave enough space for drafting tables, stools, and chest of drawers for two. It also has its own private bath and a kitchenette with no stove _or_ microwave as students generally can’t be trusted with fire-hazard equipment when left to fend for themselves.  It was more than adequate, and for all of it to come free with his admission was more than Will felt he deserved.

 

When they reached his room, he opened the door with difficulty and immediately felt for the light switch by the wall, using all his remaining strength to keep the guy from sliding off his shoulders and from cracking his skull open against the hardwood floor. They eventually reached his bed where he carefully laid the man down as best as he could, supporting his head with a pillow, and breathing heavily with the exertion when he’s finished.

 

He thought of waking up the man, but he felt so sorry for him. The man looked so weary, so exhausted, and perhaps so hungry from eating _only_ junk food for three days. Yet it was a wonder how he could sleep so soundly from drinking so much energy drink and possibly _only_ energy drinks for three days. Of course, none of these speculations were for certain and would remain as speculations until the following morning. So instead, Will sat on the floor and hugged his knees close to his body, resting his chin on top of his knee and closely studied the man in front of him.

 

Will’s mind ran wild with imagination, as his mind always did, as to where this man came from. He thought perhaps that the man was blinded by the idea of the _American Dream_ and sailed straight to the promised land, abandoning his country lifestyle in a rural village back in France only to be deceived and ruined by his own expectations. But the man didn’t look like a country fellow. He had a face of an actor, strong and defined, with high cheekbones and a straight nose, beautiful long lashes and straight lips. His face was freckled and handsome, his hair dark and silky and quite naturally curly.

 

Will continued to stare in this manner until his eyes began to droop and his consciousness slipped, his cheek slowly resting on top of his knees until everything went completely dark and silent.

 

 

 


	2. Ask Me Anything

The next moment Will opened his eyes, he found himself in his own bed, staring at a flock of dark, curly locks bouncing every now and then. The young man from last night was sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through Will’s campus guide curiously. He hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights and was considerately using the soft, thin glow of the early morning light escaping through the window curtain behind Will’s head.

 

When Will sat up in his bed, it made a soft creaking noise, making the guy look right up.

 

“Mornin’,” said the nameless man cheerfully, his _r_ sounding quite odd and rather fascinating with that French accent of his. It put a smile on Will’s face and he quite felt himself smiling as he planted his feet on the cold, wooden floor.

 

“Good morning,” Will responded pleasantly with sleep still in his voice. “Have you eaten? If not, I can make us a quick coffee and we can head down to the café together. You can use the bathroom and look through my clothes to see if anything will fit you.”

 

The man gave him a puzzled look as if he was given a problem to solve. “Do you always let strangers in and take care of them?” he asked.

 

Will couldn’t hold the chuckle from his lips. “A simple _thanks_ would be enough,” he replied teasingly, pushing himself off the bed and walked to his drawer where he gathered a pile of clean linen and a simple outfit that just might fit the tall stranger.

 

“Oh,” the man exclaimed apologetically. “I _am_ grateful,” he rather stammered as his eyes followed Will about the room.

 

“It’s alright,” Will replied as he handed his collected pile to the man who immediately stood up and met him with ready hands. “Bathroom’s that way if you haven’t found it. I’ll use it when you’re done, and help yourself to the pot of coffee I’m making.”

 

The young man obediently followed his instructions without a single objection. He reminded Will of a big puppy gladly obeying the master’s command. It gave him a special feeling, as if he’s taken charge of someone and was held responsible for their well-being.

 

When you grow up in a place surrounded by family and friends who treat you like a helpless child, it’s rather hard to see how well you could manage on your own. Will was attended to every step of the way. From the clothes he wore to the activities he participated, his decisions were guided to by those who truly believed knew what was best for him. And to all this, he quietly complied. Not because he couldn’t stand up for himself, but for the fear of offending those he loved. He knew they meant well, though whether it was for his _best_ was still debatable.

 

By the time Will had finished brewing a pot of coffee and tidied up his room, the stranger promptly stepped out of the bath with a towel over his head and his dirty laundry in his arms. He looked so much more awake and rather more handsome than he did the night before. Will studied him and said with a laugh, “My mom overestimated my growth over the summer and sent me those clothes. I’m glad I could put them to good use.”

 

“I haven’t told you my name,” the young man said with a remorseful tone as if he had spent his time in the shower contemplating the past events. “I’m Richie Tozier.”

 

His hand was warm and damped when Will accepted it with a friendly shake. “Will Byers,” he replied.

 

“I know,” said Richie matter-of-factly. “I saw it in your books on that table,” he pointed to the table against the window.

 

“And _that_ book,” said Will smiling, pointing to the campus guide spread out carelessly on the floor.

 

“I didn’t want to get you in trouble, so I wanted to be familiar with the school rules.”

 

“And which of the fifty school rules I broke did you find?”

 

“Fifty!?” exclaimed Richie with a horrified look.

 

Will laughed as he cleaned his coffee mug and set it aside. “I’m kidding,” he said laughing. He dried his hands and handed Richie a clean mug with a gesture to the coffee pot. “My coffee has more caffeine than your red bull. Please help yourself.”

 

When Will got in the shower, he was reminded of how he had skipped an entire night’s routine with the unexpected events of the evening. The strong pressure of the hot, steamy water felt wonderful on his aching muscles. He thought about what he should do. He can’t confess to anyone that he had allowed a guest to stay overnight without a pass (although many students do it all the time). But he _could_ allow Richie to stay a few more nights without raising any suspicion. Exam week always put the entire school into a dazed state when its people cared for no one else but themselves and barely so.

 

As he dressed himself and passed through a mirror hanging by the bathroom sink, it occurred to him that he hadn’t thought at all how Richie might think of him. Unlike Richie, Will is of smaller frame and of shorter height, not at all intimidating or exceptionally good-looking. He had a round pair of cold, green eyes unlike Richie’s warm, hazel ones. He’s tried various ways to style his dull, straight hair, but he couldn’t quite like his large forehead and eventually settled to keep his fringe to hide it. On the bright side, as Will always found one in all sides of any story, his plain appearance blended well with the crowd, which suited him since he never liked to stand out. One thing for sure, he would never call himself ugly. That would just be a mean insult to his mom.

 

Before they left his room, Will cautiously looked about the halls and on the courtyard down below and on the side walk to see if anyone would catch them. The coast was clear, and they casually walked side by side to the café several blocks away from the residential hall. It was a cold, foggy morning with mist in the air that clung to their exposed skin like dusts from an industrial construction site, except it clung pleasantly and felt nice. The café had barely opened when they walked in. Richie pulled his hood lower to his face as he grabbed a bowl of fruit, a croissant, and a glass of juice.

 

“Is that all you’re eating?” Will asked when they sat down across each other. “I thought you’d be hungrier than that.”

 

“This is all I ever eat for breakfast,” Richie explained as he took a bite of his croissant. He still looked rather tired and weak, but he could at least stay up and hold a proper conversation.

 

They ate in silence for some time, each of them preoccupied with his own thoughts. Will was thinking of his exams later in the day and if he would have enough time to properly help Richie with, well, he didn’t know what – but he’d be willing to help.

 

“Aren’t you going to ask me anything?” asked Richie with a curious tone.

 

“Well…” Will replied thoughtfully, looking up from his food. “What would you like me to ask?”

 

“Anything, I guess. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

 

Will looked as if he was deep in thought, and he said with a serious voice, “Could you pass me the salt?”

 

He broke out in laughter at the funny look on Richie’s dumbfounded face. Richie _did_ slide the salt shaker across the table when Will’s laughter had died down and his mouth was beginning to spread into a smile.

 

“If you wish me to ask,” began Will with a soft, soothing voice, “then I will. I’ll ask whatever you want me to know. If you need a place to stay, you can have mine for as long as we can get away with it.”

 

They share a long, understanding look and Will went back to his food, unaware of how much he had touched Richie’s heart with his unassuming kindness.


	3. Puzzle Pieces

Will stared out the window with such a thoughtful look on his face, his elbow resting on his desk and his chin on his hand. He watched distantly at the steady rain wetting his view. He wondered about many things, as he often did. And he wondered if Richie found shelter on his way to wherever he meant to go.

 

During their breakfast, Richie had mentioned that he intended to visit his mother who lived a few miles away from the campus. He had been meaning to see her all this time, but whenever he _did_ come to her house, she was never home. Richie told his stories in pieces, vague and loosely connected. And yet somehow, they _did_ connect and made sense, like pieces of a puzzle, as if he trusted Will enough to be able to piece them together and make a complete story out of them.

 

What he gathered from Richie’s stories was this: That Richie’s father left his mother for another woman when he was a child, but desired to raise Richie as he was their only son. He had never seen his mother ever since. From a private information he managed to obtain, Richie set out to look for his own mom and ended up in Savannah, but had never been successful on seeing her or knowing whether or not his intel was right after all.

 

That morning before they parted, they stood outside the café entrance facing each other. Will took out a key from his pocket and handed it to Richie who received it uncertainly.

 

“It’s a spare. I hope you never need to use it. I hope you see your mom,” said Will quietly and with a warm smile.

 

“You’re a strange person,” replied Richie with a bright spark in his eyes. “ _Comme c'est intéressant._ ” He stared at Will for a moment as if committing his face into memory and said with rather gentle voice, “ _À plus_.”

 

And they parted quietly.

 

 

“Fifteen minutes.”

 

Will’s thoughts were pulled back to the classroom and he looked back down to his exam paper, realizing he had stopped at the last question.

> Explain how these topics might have negatively influenced Brian’s experience on his trip from Georgia to California:

  * Circadian rhythms
  * Conditioned response
  * Cognitive biases



 

He stared at it for a moment before picking up his pen and answering the question in less than five minutes with Richie in his mind.

 

When he had finished, he took his papers to the front desk and handed them to his professor who was almost startled to see someone complete the exam under the allotted time. Will walked quietly out of the room, and if his classmates looked up wide-eyed at his retreating back, he didn’t notice.

 

As he passed through the quiet hall with walls filled with abstract artworks and three-dimensional pieces and framed sketches, he thought about what he would do next. His exams for the day were all done with, and he’s quite tired of studying for his remaining exams that he thought he _ought_ to spend his time doing something else _besides_ study.

 

As he continued to walk rather aimlessly, occasionally glancing at the wall decors that were replaced at the beginning of every month, he happened to pass by the Foreign Language room and caught sight of a French booklet. There were several of them stocked in a neat pile by the door, and so he grabbed one and flipped through it as he walked on. He briefly scanned through the pages and noticed a rather familiar phrase:

 

" _À plus tard!"_ which apparently meant, _“See you later!”_

And it made him smile. It was something so simple, something so trivial, and yet it made him wonder just how soon he will see the _Nameless Man_ (or so he sometimes called Richie in his head) again. He didn’t have to wonder for much longer, it seemed, as the very man himself was standing right outside the building with a clear umbrella underneath the light, steady rain.

 

Will’s steps faltered as he approached Richie. He glanced at his umbrella just as Richie glanced at the French booklet in his hands, and for a moment they simply stared at each other wordlessly.

 

Richie slightly tipped the umbrella in his hand. “I took it from this shop– well, _borrowed_ it, actually,” he corrected himself with a side smile. “I promised to return it, not that anyone heard me or saw me take it.”

 

Will tried to suppress a smile, raising instead the booklet in his hands. “I might’ve done the same thing. There were plenty of them. Surely, no one was counting.”

 

“No one would reprimand you for wanting to learn,” Richie replied with a snort.

 

“And _no one_ would reprimand you for taking shelter. Maslow’s Hierarchy,” said Will with a teasing laugh.

 

Richie simply watched him laugh with a smile on his own face and soon extended the umbrella to him that they may share it. Will stepped under it with a grateful smile and led Richie back to the café. Richie had laughed at him for being so determined at making sure that he was well fed, but Will was firm and resolutely wanted to assure that no pop-tarts or red bull will be part of Richie’s meal as long as he can help it.

 

And somehow, the dull sky and the equally dull view along with the muggy, wet air no longer seemed quite so bland even in the absence of the golden sunset. They both felt it, but neither of them brought it up as Richie would much rather hear Will talk about the menu and how funny it was that students hole themselves up in their rooms studying til dawn during exams that the café would almost seem like a ghost town filled with mouth-watering foods made by the evil spirits to lure their victims in and rip their souls for a meal.

 

Will enumerated numbers of made-up stories with such detail and enthusiasm that he wasn’t at all aware of the way Richie looked at him so softly and that the distance between their shoulders as they walked had but all disappeared.  


End file.
